


Blemishes and Bibliophilia

by Heartless_Sigyn (Alexis_Rockford)



Series: Devil or Angel: An MCU-Compliant Logyn Continuity [3]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Books, But Sigyn Can Help, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Gender Roles, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Grey-A Sigyn (Marvel), Honeymoon, Libraries, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Partial Mind Control, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Heartless_Sigyn
Summary: Sigyn's first venture into her husband's library stirs memories of Loki's troubled past. Can the goddess of fidelity's love ever truly heal his blemished soul?This fic fits into the continuity of myDevil or Angelseries, but it can be read as a stand alone.





	1. Presque Autant Que J'aime Les Livres

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: This fic takes place during Loki and Sigyn's honeymoon shortly after the [epilogue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14209299/chapters/38008286) of _Devil in Disguise_. The newlyweds are still chained together as punishment for Loki's deception, but as before, this is NOT described in any sort of bondage sense. I wrote it this way because of [this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/15/03/bf/1503bf580f8f811e0398c6b6d656c8a5.jpg) panel in the original comics. I even made the chain longer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn notices a scar on Loki's forehead, and Loki explains its origin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was initially intended to be a one-shot, but Loki, as per usual, had a few extra things to say that I hadn't planned to write. If the abrupt ending to chapter one annoys you, please take it up with him. I am only the messenger. ;)

If she wasn’t so afraid of sounding like a living cliche, Sigyn would have freely admitted that her honeymoon with Loki had far surpassed what any saccharine sonnet or love song had taught her to expect. Of course, no one was nearby save for her beloved, who lay tangled with her in a rare moment of early-morning repose. In fact, now that she thought about it, Sigyn had never seen her husband’s eyes completely shut before during the entire millennium of their acquaintance. Even over the past few days, every time consciousness had begun to creep back to her and her eyelids snapped open to make sure that he was still there, he had already been awake himself and greeted her with a smile. Her breath caught now as she gazed at him in his supine position, completely oblivious to the world around him. His current state of vulnerability touched a part of her soul which she hadn’t even known existed until this moment. Bending over, she lightly brushed the dark hair away from his face and was startled to discern a small scar on his forehead that she had never noticed before. She had a sudden longing to cast the strongest seidr protection spell in the history of Asgard, declaring to the Nine Realms that he was hers and no one was ever allowed to harm him again. Instead, she pressed her mouth gently to the blemish and graced his lips with a tender kiss as well.

She wasn’t at all surprised when she felt his hand at the back of her head as he pulled her closer to him. After a few more moments of enjoying each other, their mouths finally separated and she found herself once again lost in the beauty of his shining eyes. “Someone’s an early riser today,” he murmured sleepily.

Sigyn arched a knowing brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “You are making it far too easy for me to say something lewd. I refuse to take the bait this time, dear husband.”

His lips quivered downward for the briefest of moments before he rewarded her with the dazzling morning smile she had come to expect from him. “It appears I will have to try harder to engage your ready wit in future.”

“Must you always provoke me to imprecations and innuendo?” she asked with an exaggerated sigh although she secretly enjoyed his attempts to nudge her to inappropriate speech.

“I fear I must as long as it makes you even more damnably attractive than you already are,” he admitted, infusing mischief into his ever-widening grin.

Sigyn tried her best to look irritated, but she always felt deliciously daring whenever she cursed or made a sly suggestive remark at his beckoning. Loosening her tongue in such a way was a freedom that she rarely had allowed herself before their courtship, and it pleased her more than she was willing to admit to anyone, especially the mischievous imp who encouraged it. “You would do well to remember that I only please conditionally,” she replied tartly, tugging playfully on the lengthy chain that had bound them by the wrists since their wedding day.

Loki scoffed and crossed his arms in a subtle pout, but his smile never faltered. “I forget nothing,” he reminded her.

Gooseflesh prickled along her arm at his oft-repeated confession. _I forget nothing_. He had said it often enough over their past few weeks together, and yet she tingled afresh each time the simple phrase passed his lips. Such a trite and well-worn expression and yet how its syllables caressed her ear each time his rich melodious voice uttered it! Be that as it may, wasn’t it time to put those weighty words to the test?

“If your claim is the truth, sir,” she began with a hint of superiority in her tone, “then you must fulfill the promise you made to me some six-hundred years ago.” She eagerly searched his face for any trace that he apprehended her.

Loki’s pupils dilated briefly like those of some woodland creature cornered by a hound. “And which promise is that?” he cajoled, his eyes flickering across her face for the slightest hint of her meaning.

Sigyn stubbornly let her eyelids fall and turned away from his prying gaze. Immediately, her mind began to fog and an inquisitive tendril of thought began to coax its way into her head. She reflexively began to raise her mental barrier, but she remembered the oath she had made to never do so while in their bed. Hastily, she cast aside the smooth silken sheets and leapt to the cold floor. There was a soft thud and a metallic tinkle of golden links coiling sloppily behind her as she landed.

“No cheating!” she scolded as the coolness of the marble seeped into her bare feet. Her flight had barely disturbed her husband’s arm due to the amount of slack in the chain, so she knew she hadn’t hurt him. Nevertheless, she felt his rage flare for a brief moment before she blocked it out completely.

“One can hardly call it fair play to expect that I remember every little thing I’ve ever said to you,” he muttered in obvious annoyance.

“Perhaps that will instruct you not to make careless vows,” Sigyn retorted, but a sparkle in her deep blue eyes revealed that she was not truly upset with him.

Loki exhaled slowly, trying to dispel his anger with his breath. “Very well, Sigyn,” he finally said. “You shall see my library.”

A thrill of excitement washed over her at both his invitation and the fact that he had recalled her fondest girlhood desire. _I truly have the best and dearest husband in the entire world_ , she thought rapturously.

 _Indeed_ , a familiar voice intruded on her thoughts, and for once, she decided not to punish him for his insolence.

As soon as they had traded their garments for something more suitable, Loki grasped her hand and gently led her to the door of his bedchamber. Smiling almost shyly, he removed several bolts at once with a flick of his long fingers and the door flew open, revealing a dusty room that reeked of leather and ink. There was another scent, too, that Sigyn found nearly impossible to define, not exactly musty, but an odour that brought to mind close cozy spaces and the relentless pursuit of knowledge. She found it to be both comfortingly familiar and intoxicatingly exciting. Most of all, it smelled like home.

“I apologise for the condition of the room,” Loki whispered reverently as they stepped inside. “The servants have been absolutely useless lately. I swear they haven’t darkened any door on this floor since…” He trailed off, unwilling to bring his brother into the conversation.

Sigyn nodded to show that she understood. “Have you spoken with them?” she asked in an equally quiet voice.

“Well, I meant to…” he began somewhat defensively, “but I’ve been so busy lately, what with ruling Asgard and-“

“Tricking me into marrying you?” she supplied in a gently mocking tone.

She couldn’t be sure but she thought she detected a hint of pink on his high, pale cheekbones. “I prefer to think of it as reminding you of your long-repressed latent affections, but yes.”

“Permit me to address the matter to them,” Sigyn offered helpfully. “I am not unused to providing guidance to wayward souls.” She gave him a fondly accusatory look.

“If it pleases you to do so, then by all means,” Loki returned with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

“‘Tis not the instruction itself but rather its result that gives the pleasure,” she insisted primly.

“I refuse to believe that for a moment,” he muttered under his breath, and she was forced to suppress a smile.

The natural break in the conversation gave him the opportunity to cross to the windows. Fortunately, the chain was long enough for him to reach them easily and pull the heavy curtains aside. Bright sunlight streamed into the room as he telekinetically tied them back with a single flip of his wrist. Sigyn stepped toward him as if to help, but his lips twitched, and he slowly shook his head. _Let me do something for you just this once._ As always, his presence inside her mind soothed and stimulated her at the same time. If it were up to her, she would only ever communicate with him in this intimate way. Over the past few days, her proficiency with telepathy had increased exponentially and she wondered that she hadn’t always excelled at it. But then, perhaps she had needed his tutelage in order to tap her full potential. He had definitely proven himself an able instructor in more ways than one. Sigyn’s heart beat to near bursting at the memory of all the lessons she had so newly learned.

“Speaking of learning,” Loki disrupted her musings with his low husky voice. “What do you think?” He indicated his eclectic assortment of manuscripts with a wide-armed shrug. “Not too shabby, eh?”

The sheer number of volumes in residence there was enough to take her breath away. The room was nearly twice the size of his bedchamber and crowded with books from floor to ceiling. Even the several dozen intricately carved shelves were not enough to contain their immense population. She had thought the collection impressive enough from the little she had seen of it on that fateful day six-hundred years ago, but he had clearly added to it in the interval. He likely didn’t own every book in existence, but he may as well have for all the tomes that were clustered together here like grains of sand in a vast seascape.

“Ye gods,” she breathed as she cautiously approached a towering pile. “Is this really a an early manuscript of _Pride and Prejudice?_ ” Her fingers trembled as she reached for the loosely bound parchment.

“ _First Impressions_ , if you please,” Loki corrected, indicating the title. “Can’t you read?”

She gave him a withering glare, which he seemed not to notice. She sighed and flipped gingerly through the pages until she found the passage where Elizabeth and Darcy dance together for the first time. “I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds,” she read aloud to her husband, who hovered behind her shoulder like an insistent hummingbird.

“Have you really?” Loki gasped in faux astonishment. “Oh, dear. Don’t let Odin know.”

She ignored his snide remark, choosing to survey the mountains of leather and paper instead “However did you acquire such a bounty?” she wondered aloud

“Like this,” he explained unhelpfully. She turned her head to scold him, but he stole a kiss, causing her to fall blissfully silent.

After she had recovered enough of her wits to form a coherent thought again, she tried again. “What I meant to ask is where did you obtain so many books?”

“Oh, here and there,” he said evasively while stroking the spine of a well-embossed volume.

Sigyn raised an eyebrow. “Here and there? Come now, you can do better than that. I know there’s a story here somewhere,” she quipped with a smirk eyeing the mountains of hardcovers.

“There are tens of thousands of stories here, darling,” he countered, taking her hands in his. “And I want to share them all with you. But not just now.” His earnest tone warmed her heart and her blood. He was doing it again, using his Silvertongue to manipulate her into forgetting what she had been thinking. What had she been thinking anyway? Surely it was not as important as the way his blue-green eyes were sparkling in the sunlight. His gaze made her feel as though she might fly apart into a million fractals at his feet and be resculpted into a shiny new Sigyn infinitely better than the one she had been before.

“Don’t…” she trailed off breathlessly although her mouth and her mind were clearly at odds. “Whatever you are doing, stop.”

Loki’s lips had quirked into a wicked half-smile, but a moment later, he released his grip on both her hands and her reason. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered and looked away. “I didn’t realise I was influencing you. One of several rather nasty habits I developed during my stint on Midgard. Fortunately, it isn’t foolproof. Even strong-willed mortals can resist it as that debacle at Stuttgart will attest.”

Sigyn caressed his face with velvety fingertips, turning it back toward her. “You don’t have to do that sort of thing anymore. I promise I will love you no matter what you tell me, no matter what you do. What do I have to do to prove it to you?” She searched his face for the answer, but all she could find was sadness and shame.

“Nothing,” he finally said. “You have shown it to me time and time again despite my myriad sins. The fault is mine. I suppose I am not accustomed to being loved that way.”

“Then I must impress it upon you daily until you learn it by rote.” She buried her head in his chest and draped her arms across his lean muscular back. “I love you, Loki Odinson. I always have, and I always will.” She could feel his heartbeat momentarily pick up speed as she held him and then slow down to match hers as he relaxed into the embrace.

“Je t’aime, ma Sigyn,” he whispered, and she shivered with delight. “Presque autant que j'aime les livres.”

Sigyn balled her hands into fists and punched him lightly between the shoulder-blades. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment, but I’d rather punish you for it.”

“No surprises there,” Loki replied, his chest rumbling with laughter.

They pulled apart, and he lead her to a richly decorated divan where they sat together, knees and shoulders touching in an intimate tete-a-tete.

“I suppose I should start from the beginning.” He sighed heavily with the air of a prisoner facing execution rather than a husband confessing a childhood indiscretion to his doting new bride.

Sigyn said nothing, but smiled in encouragement.

“Actually…” He glanced at her with what could be seen as either shyness or embarrassment. “I could show you, if you like.”

He offered his hand to her, and she only hesitated a brief second before taking it. She followed his lead, shutting her own eyes and bracing as though expecting a physical impact.

“Relax, Sigyn,” Loki murmured soothingly, and her eyelids flew open. “I’m only going to project my memories into your mind. I promise I won’t do anything further.” The look in his eyes was as beseeching as when he had breached her will before, but she could tell he wasn’t using his influence this time.

Sigyn released the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “I trust you,” she said softly, and she meant it.

“I shall endeavour not to squander your faith in me,” he replied, closing his eyes once more.

Before she knew what was happening, she had been transported to a side lawn of the castle. Two teenage boys were sparring on the grass while a younger-looking Odin and Frigga looked on. With a jolt, she recognized the boys as Thor and Loki.

“You shall never best me, brother!” boomed the god of thunder as he lunged toward Loki with a wickedly sharp sword. “You best surrender now before I mar that beautiful face of yours.”

Loki parried with his own sword as best as he could, but it was clear he was vastly outmatched. “Death first!” he cried dramatically as he attempted a feint to the left. Unfortunately, Thor had anticipated his move and the blade caught Loki’s forehead as he dodged. He bit back a cry of pain, dropping his sword and flinging a spell at his brother in retaliation.

Thor stumbled backward and landed ungracefully on his royal rump. Loki retrieved a dagger from his belt and teleported behind his brother, pressing its cold steel to Thor’s throat. “Check and mate,” he growled under his breath.

“That is not a legal move,” came a commanding voice from the sidelines. Odin’s head dropped into his right palm. “Frigga, why must you teach him such witchcraft?”

Frigga appraised her husband with a cold stare. “Just because Loki is not as athletically gifted as Thor doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have a chance to win.”

“That’s exactly what it means,” argued Odin, his brows furrowed in self-righteous anger. “If Loki wishes to prevail in combat against Thor, he should improve himself physically until he is strong enough to match him in a fair fight.”

Loki, blood still dripping from the gash in his forehead, looked pleadingly at his mother, but she simply shook her head. Reluctantly, he released his weapon, and it thudded harmlessly in the grass.

Thor scrambled to his feet looking none the worse for wear. “‘Twas a good attempt, little brother,” he said, offering his hand. “But clearly the better man won.”

Loki squinted suspiciously at the offered handshake before accepting it. But the moment their fingers locked, he jabbed forward with his left arm, piercing his brother’s abdomen with another dagger he had hidden in his sleeve. “Clearly,” he snarled with a wicked grin.

“LOKI!” Odin was across the lawn in a flash. He grabbed his younger son by the arm and dragged him off toward the palace, Frigga following close behind. As they walked, a woman passed them going the other direction toward the injured prince. Sigyn realised at once that it was her superior at the House of Healing.

“I’m fine, Lady Eir,” Thor insisted as she hovered over him. “Believe me, he does this to me all the time. No harm done.”

Sigyn could no longer hear their conversation as the scene shifted to the familiar walls of Loki’s bedroom. Odin unceremoniously flung his youngest son through the door, and he nearly tripped on a pile of monographs that sagged precariously against the wall. “Confound you and your blasted books!” he bellowed, kicking them across the marble floor. “If you spent more time training and less time reading, you wouldn’t have to resort to tricks to conquer Thor.”

Loki gathered the precious tomes that his father had scattered and held them protectively against his chest. “Bluster at me all you like, Father, but I pray you, do not spend your wrath on these sacred texts.”

“You dare tell me in what manner you are to be punished?” The volume of Odin’s voice had risen so loud that the posts of Loki’s bed nearly shook with his fury. “Insolent boy! Even after all I have done for you, will you persist in defying me?”

Loki met his father’s gaze with defiance, but Sigyn could see the fear in the young boy’s eyes. “With all due respect, sir,” he answered in a tone that betrayed quite the opposite. “Not everyone can be the god of battle.”

Odin drew his hand back as if to strike his son, but Frigga’s gentle touch on his arm stayed him. “Don’t you think he has suffered enough?” she said gently, indicating the cut on Loki’s forehead. “Allow me to minister to him, lest that wound leave a permanent mark.”

“Perhaps such a blemish would be a fitting reminder of his failure,” Odin argued, but his heart was not in it. He relented, and his wife was permitted entry into the room. “You coddle the boy too much,” he muttered as he strode off with a sweep of his cape and a slam of the door. Loki set the books back down on the floor with an echoing thump.

Frigga approached her favourite son, retrieving a handkerchief from a pouch at her waist. She gingerly dabbed at the wound to sponge up the blood and then, rubbing her fingers together, coaxed a glow of healing energy into his skin.

“I’m alright, Mother,” Loki protested, pushing her hand away. “‘Twill heal well enough on its own.”

She gave him a sad smile, tucking a stray lock of raven hair behind his ear. “One would almost think you wanted a scar.” She pressed her lips to the lesion which even now had begun to suture itself.

“I would gladly accept one if it meant Father would cease tormenting me,” he spat bitterly.

“He does not mean ill by it,” Frigga insisted, and Loki made a noise of disbelief. “He just has a very rigid notion of what is required of not merely a man, but one of royal blood.”

The corner of his mouth twisted wryly, and he shimmered into a female version of himself. “I don’t suppose I should show him this trick then,” she said in a voice that was oddly high-pitched but still recognisable as Loki.

Frigga stifled a laugh. “Certainly not,” she agreed, and pulled her daughter into a fond embrace. “From now on, it’s probably best that you refrain from using magic in any perceptible way when you spar in front of your father.”

“Even if it means I lose?” Lady Loki whined in the annoying way that only an adolescent female can. Her lips protruded into an endearingly feminine pout.

“I’ll tell you what,” Frigga said thoughtfully. “Each time you can exercise self-control during these bouts, I will find you a new book for your library.”

Lady Loki’s eyes shone at the thought of adding to her already extensive collection. “Truly?”

Frigga nodded solemnly. “Now, please transform back into your true form before your Father comes back and sees you like this.”

Lady Loki frowned, but dutifully returned to her normal shape. “Honestly,” he sighed, a trace of his former girlish tone still audible. “Odin has such old-fashioned views about gender roles. He desperately needs to broaden his mind.”

Frigga smirked appreciatively. “Try being his wife,” she mumbled, and the young god of mischief couldn’t help but chuckle.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's scar - Tom Hiddleston actually does have a scar on his forehead from when he was working on _Coriolanus_. I decided to give it an origin story much as the writers did for Harrison Ford's scar in _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade._
> 
> seidr - an art that the ancient Norse peoples used to practise. It is a specific type of magic (typically attributed to Freya and Odin), concerned with discerning the course of fate and working within its structure to bring about change, which was done by symbolically weaving new events into being. There were rituals for divination and clairvoyance; for seeking out the hidden, both in the secrets of the mind and in physical locations; for healing the sick; for bringing good luck; for controlling the weather; for calling game animals and fish. Importantly, it could also be used for the opposite of these things. Seidr is literally translated as "cord, string, or snare." Since Sigyn is referred to as the "incantation-fetter" or "spellbinder" in various artifacts, it made sense to me that she might also wield this power.
> 
>  _Pride and Prejudice_ \- the working title of this famous Jane Austen novel was _First Impressions_. There are no known existing copies of this original version, but I invented one for Loki's collection. 
> 
> Loki's mental abilities - Without the Tesseract, MCU Loki is incapable of complete mind control (contrary to the LEGO Video Games). Loki's magic is much more powerful in the comics. There is canonical evidence that both Loki and Odin can delete events from the minds of mortals if they so choose. I'm not sure how this works on other gods, however, Odin seems to have done something to Thor's memories when he banished him to Midgard in the form of Dr. Donald Blake. Loki's influence/persuasion ability also can be wielded against fellow Asgardians, including Odin, so I figured why not his memory meddling. There is no direct proof of this ability in the MCU.
> 
> "debacle at Stuttgart" - reference to the scene in _The Avengers_ where Loki commands the entire city to kneel to him. Most do, but a WWII survivor resists Loki's instruction and compares him to Hitler, much to his consternation.
> 
> “Je t’aime presque autant que j'aime les livres” - French for "I love you almost as much as I love books." Thanks to my friend, Drayuu, for double checking Google translate. ;)
> 
> Lady Loki - one of Loki's incarnations in the comics is, indeed, [female.](https://am21.akamaized.net/tms/cnt/uploads/2018/06/loki-agent-of-asgard-15.png) This scene is a nod to that.


	2. Ich Liebe Dich Fast So Sehr Wie Bücher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finishes the story of how he collected so many books, and Sigyn extends her powers too far.

Sigyn released Loki’s hand and their mental connection was abruptly severed. “What is it?” Loki asked in alarm. “I wasn’t using influence, I swear-”

She cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. “I believe you. I’m just confused about why you didn’t want to show me this. Is it because of your gender-fluidity? Because I’ve known about that for years. You are a shapeshifter, are you not? I naturally assumed you had the ability to change your sex at will.”

“Are you certain?” he inquired in his Lady Loki voice, and she burst out laughing. His eyes sparkled briefly at his wife’s gaiety before he continued in his normal timbre. “Nay, I would never expect anything less than complete devotion from you. Do you truly think that I would give up my carefree bachelor ways and bind myself to you if I believed you to be so shallow? You have always accepted me exactly the way I am, and I am grateful for that. However, you have taken exception to some of my...shall we say...questionable moral choices. Your customary unwillingness to overlook even my smaller misdeeds is what gave me pause.”

Sigyn’s eyebrows rose and disappeared under her elaborate hairdo which had begun to droop low on her temples. Her gaze involuntarily strayed to the barely visible scar whose origins she had just witnessed.

“Yet in doing so, I committed a far greater trespass.” He reached out and tapped her lightly on the forehead. “The old Sigyn would have turned away and left me alone to mourn my transgressions. But you have shown me such kindness today, far more than I can ever deserve, that I no longer fear your censure.”

“Anything I know of forgiveness, I have learned because of you,” she admitted, her deep azure eyes glistening. “I know not how, but you have taught me to be freer with mercy. Perhaps because I finally realise that to truly love someone, one must separate the sin from the sinner.”

“Whatever the cause, I am eternally thankful.” A sheen of tears had begun to form over his own eyes as well, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and continued, “Anyway, we haven’t yet arrived at the more sordid part of the story. Are you prepared to witness more of my misspent youth?” He placed his hand palm up on the divan beside him.

Sigyn grasped his hand more firmly than ever. “Lay on, Macduff,” she quoted, and briefly spied his amused smile before she closed her eyes again.

A montage of one-on-one battle scenes played out before her, mostly against Thor, but sometimes, the younger Loki faced one of the Warriors Three or even Sigyn’s good friend, Lady Sif. Each and every time, he allowed himself to be beaten and was rewarded on the sly with a rare and wonderful book. Sigyn wondered if this proclivity to throw fights in his opponent’s favour had somehow followed him into adulthood. That might explain why he had failed in his more recent duels against Thor and his other Avenger friends. Old habits did indeed die hard, it seemed. She sensed her husband’s irritation at this assessment, which cemented it even further as truth in her mind.

One particular day suddenly came into clearer focus. Loki had retreated to his library after yet another easily avoidable defeat at the hands of his brother. He was perched on the divan exactly where he was seated at present, giving Sigyn an odd sense of deja vu. The only difference was that past Loki had his arm in a sling and was reading from a slim volume of poetry. A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. He quickly placed a ribbon bookmark to hold his spot and hurried to greet his guest.

Frigga bustled into the room, an illuminated manuscript tucked carefully beneath one arm. “I don’t have much time,” she said breathlessly as she shut the door behind her. “Huginn spotted me on my way up the stairs.”

The hairs on the back of Loki’s neck rose visibly at the thought of his father’s ravens spying on them. “Blast those bloody birds!” he swore, scuffing a booted foot against the floor. “Give the book here so I can send it to limbo posthaste.”

Frigga carefully transferred the precious item into her son’s eager hands. He had just caused the book to dissolve from view when Odin burst into the room.

The Allfather’s beard bristled with indignation as he surveyed his wife and son in obvious co-conspiracy. “So this is why you have been so willing to dispense with your trickery in combat. I might have expected as much from you, Loki, but to think that my own wife is complicit.” He shook his head sadly. “Frigga, you dishonour me.”

Frigga faced her husband squarely. “Is it not better to encourage proper behaviour with rewards than to punish mischief with violence?” she protested in a calm voice that belied the anger in her eyes.

“Mischief I can handle,” Odin retorted, spittle flying from his mouth. “But blatant disobedience and abject laziness I will not tolerate.”

Loki sucked in his lip, rendering his expression unreadable, although Sigyn could plainly see that he was trembling with either fear, rage, or a mixture of both. “I am not lazy,” he insisted quietly. “There are many different ways of being industrious. I choose to exercise my mind rather than my body. Is that such a crime?”

“It displays a lack of character unbecoming of the future advisor to Asgard’s king.” Odin over-enunciated the final syllables of the sentence so that each one fell as heavy as a blow on his listeners’ ears.

“An advisor?” Loki repeated in mocking disbelief. “Is that truly the highest calling to which I can aspire? Forgive me if I don’t work myself into a lather at the prospect of such a paltry vocation.”

“I cannot, and I will not,” Odin declared definitively. “You shall learn your place, Loki, or so help me…” He seemed uncertain how to ensure that his threat would be heeded. Instead, he turned to his wife and said “I forbid you to give this obstreperous child any more books. Ever.”

“But Father-” Loki began, true panic displayed in all his features.

“Silence that Silvertongue at once, or I will sew your impertinent lips shut!”

Loki reflexively placed his fingers on his mouth, and backed away a few steps, his gaze darting to his mother’s face. Frigga’s mien was sad and pensive, and she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” in a way that was only perceivable by her youngest son.

Odin was halfway out the door, when he turned back to his wife. “Come away, Frigga,” he commanded, his visible eye cold and unforgiving. “Your son has some serious soul-searching to do.”

Frigga exhaled loudly, and trailed after her husband, casting one final doleful glance at Loki. Once the sound of their footsteps had faded down the corridor, Loki twitched his fingers and summoned back his mother’s final gift. He hugged the book against his chest, hot tears trickling down his pale cheeks. If that was the way his father wanted to play, so be it. There were other ways to acquire the knowledge he so desperately sought, and he was only too eager to exploit them, especially if it meant flouting Odin’s ridiculously high expectations.

“Is this the part where you make poor life choices again?” Sigyn burst out, disrupting their psychic tryst once more.

Loki disentangled his fingers from hers and shook them out briefly. “Yes, yes,” he confirmed impatiently. “Now, will you kindly stop interrupting? A link such as this requires a great deal of energy and concentration. Each time the connection is broken, I have to delve deeper into my mana stores to reestablish it.”

Sigyn glanced at her husband and noticed that he was starting to look a bit tired. His eyelids sagged almost imperceptibly and his normally clear, bright eyes were starting develop a glassy patina. She wondered if it was not merely the mental exertion that was wearing on him, but also the emotional strain of reliving such painful memories. A wave of compassion rolled over her and she pressed her lips to his, transferring as much of her mystical power to him as she dared.

Loki jerked backward on the divan before regaining his composure and returning the kiss, drinking the offered energy with an unquenchable eagerness. Finally, when Sigyn was beginning to feel faint from the exchange, he tenderly nudged her back to her place beside him.  
  
“Are you quite alright?” he asked with concern.

The room was tilting precariously, and her mind was clouding over as though Thor himself had summoned a storm therein. “Don’t worry about me,” she gasped. Her psyche was as vulnerable as she had ever allowed it to become, and she trembled as though she had climbed to the top of a high precipice. Yet she felt completely safe and content with her husband by her side. “Please finish your story.” She was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on his face, which had taken on a dreamlike quality the longer she stared.

His eyes beckoned to her from their calming depths. “Rest, my darling,” he soothed, drawing her head onto his shoulder.

She immediately found herself in the grand Asgardian library. Her dear friend, Mimir, was seated at the large marble desk where he was intently studying a stack of new acquisitions. Loki was seated at one of the large mahogany tables that were situated near the stacks, a series of scrolls laid out before him. On closer inspection, Sigyn recognised their text as being Latin. She could just make out the words “Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.” Apparently, he was reading the _Aeneid_ , or at least pretending to do so. His glance continued to flick over his shoulder toward where his uncle was working. Finally, the older man stood up and wandered toward the other section of the building.

Young Loki grinned as he gingerly rolled up one of the scrolls. Placing it upright in the palm of his hand, he caused it to slowly vanish from view. By the time Mimir returned, he was hunched over the remaining scrolls again as though nothing had happened. The librarian frowned briefly as though he detected that something untoward had occurred, but he soon shrugged and returned to his task of cataloging.

Several more such scenes flashed into Sigyn’s consciousness. It was soon clear to her that Loki had continued to pilfer items from the library over a number of years. Each time he had become more brazen in his thefts, several times even snatching items literally from right under Mimir’s nose. But the elderly librarian never seemed to cotton onto what his mischievous grand-nephew was doing. He continued to smile in welcome every time his best patron entered the building, offering up his latest acquisitions for Loki’s perusal.

Sigyn did her best to bury her disapproval of her husband’s thieving ways, but she couldn’t help thinking, _Why bother to steal books from the public library? You could have simply stayed longer to read them there or checked them out like everyone else._

In response, Loki showed her one last memory. He was standing in between two bookshelves, browsing for a particularly obscure Greek manuscript when the door to the Asgardian library banged open. He knew without looking that Odin had arrived to enforce his will upon him yet again. “‘Sblood,” he cursed as he slunk further into the stacks, casting a concealment spell as he did so.

“Good afternoon,” Mimir greeted him as he approached. “Is there anything in particular you are looking for?”

“You know very well what I seek.” Odin slammed his palms on the desk for emphasis, knocking over a pile of books that was resting there.

“I pray you, Odin,” Mimir interposed politely, “have care with my inventory.”

Odin straightened up, placing his hands at his side. “Where is Loki?”

“How should I know where that young scoundrel is?” the librarian asked with a chuckle. “You know how adept he is with charms. He could be anywhere.” He scanned the room briefly, and Loki was almost certain he had been seen, but his grand-uncle gave no indication of that to the Allfather. “He’s clearly not in here.” Mimir smiled benignly, but his eyes sparkled with mirth.

Odin scratched his beard for a moment, and then with a frustrated huff of breath, turned to go. “If you do encounter him,” he called over his shoulder, “don’t forget: he’s only permitted to be in here an hour a day, and he is forbidden from taking anything out. He must learn to manage his time better and spend more of it on the improvement of his battle technique.”

“I understand,” Mimir said with a nod. “I will send him on his merry way should I discover him.”

“I thank you, uncle,” Odin replied as he made his way out of the musty building that offended him so much.

“You can come out now, Loki,” Mimir called as he straightened the tomes that his nephew had disturbed.

Loki reappeared in the room, the sought-after text in his grasp. “Uncle Mimir, I can explain,” he began, his Silvertongue preparing to launch into a a cleverly-composed alibi.

Mimir held up his hands. “There is no need in expending your charm on me. I have traversed this road before.” Loki blinked, unsure of what his uncle could possibly mean, but he did not have to wait long. “Your great-grandfather, Buri, was very much the same way with me and my brother. Bor was destined for the throne and was therefore much beloved of my father. He always did right in Buri’s eyes as his strength in combat was unmatched. I, on the other hand, was content to travel the Nine Realms in search of knowledge. Buri never could fathom why anyone would waste their life in the pursuit of anything so intangible. In his desperation for his sons to hold onto everything he had fought so hard to possess, he failed to apprehend the simplest of truths.”

“And which one is that?” Loki wondered aloud while turning the ancient book slowly over and over in his large hands.

“That it is not our struggle for dominion that sets us apart from the beasts but our ability to reason.” Mimir gently led his young charge toward the exit. “Now you’d best be on you way before your father returns and makes life miserable for us both.”

Loki was halfway out the door when he heard his grand-uncle say, “By the way I know about the books you’ve purloined, including the one you spirited away while we were talking.”

He froze mid step as though the Casket of Ancient Winters had been suddenly unleashed upon him. “I don’t know what you mean,” he insisted without turning around.

“Oh, I think you do,” Mimir said with a chuckle. “I have been alive for nearly seven thousand years, and I’ve witnessed a few things in my time. But your skill with magic is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I don’t mind that you are using it to build your own library without Odin knowing, but please let me know which titles you are taking so I can replace them if possible. I don’t have time to follow you through the stacks and figure out what has gone missing.”

Loki pivoted on his heel and flashed the librarian his most winning grin. “I think I can manage that.”

As the vision began to flicker, Sigyn mused to herself that this act of rebellion on her husband’s part was not truly that terrible. She hated making excuses for him, but in this particular case, she felt his actions were almost justified. Odin could be a bully when he wanted to be; she had seen that firsthand back in the halcyon days of her friendship with Loki. Besides, was it truly theft if Mimir knew about it and didn’t mind? Wading in the grey area of morality always exhausted her, and this iteration was no exception. If she could rest her mind for a moment, everything would start to make sense again. The library faded around her and she found herself slipping away into the darkness...

Suddenly, her eyes flew open. She was surprised to find that she was lying in their bed once again instead of on the divan. “What happened?” she asked groggily.

Loki, who was standing over her and holding her hand, sighed with relief. “I am so glad you are awake again, my love. Apparently, the strain of gifting me your mana was too much for you. I tried sending some of it back, but it doesn’t work quite as well when the recipient is unconscious. I brought you here, hoping it would aid your recovery.”

She propped herself up on her elbows with a brief clank of metal and glanced blearily around the room. “That’s the trouble with me, I suppose,” she muttered, pulling the chain out from under her. “I never do things halfway. I always plunge into the deep end of the lake before I am used to the waters.”

His lips twitched sympathetically. “If it makes you feel any better, I find that to be one of your more endearing traits.”

Sigyn’s cheeks warmed at his praise. “I thank you for that assessment, although I fear it to be utter nonsense.”

“The only nonsense I can perceive is that a woman like you would ever choose a man like me,” he replied huskily. “I bare my twisted, blemished soul to you piece by piece, and you persist in straightening it out and putting it back together lovelier than it ever was.”

Sigyn moved her head slowly from side to side. “That is where you are wrong, dear husband. Your soul has always been beautiful to me. Imperfect, yes, but utterly redeemable.”

“Then I am indeed lucky to have you as my saviour,” he agreed as he slipped under the covers beside her.

She inched her way across the mattress until she was in his arms again. A delicious drowsiness had settled back upon her, and she leaned against his slight yet sturdy frame, feeling perfectly content to remain there secure in his embrace. “Ich liebe dich, Loki,” she murmured, closing her eyes, “fast so sehr wie Bücher.”

“I love you, too, my darling Sigyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lay on, Macduff" - a reference to Shakespeare's Macbeth. The titular character utters it as a challenge to his rival during their final confrontation in the play. Through the centuries, it has come to mean something along the lines of "give it your best try."
> 
> Huginn and Muninn - Odin's ravens, who spy on his enemies for him. They can be seen briefly in the first _Thor_ movie.
> 
> "I will sew your impertinent lips shut" - a reference to the story in Norse mythology where Loki actually has his lips sewn shut as punishment for deceiving the dwarves
> 
> mana stores - According to the comics, there is a limit to the magical energy that can be spent at any given time. On several occasions, Loki has passed out from using too much at once. There is no canonical proof that I have seen that one can transfer power to another, but it seems within the realm of possibility. 
> 
> Mimir - In the original myths, Mímir is Odin's brother (and therefore the uncle of Thor). In the comics, he is Bor's brother, and therefore Odin's uncle and Loki and Thor's grand uncle. He primarily appears as an enchanted decapitated head in the source materials. I have graciously granted him a corporeal body and an entire library here. The god of wisdom would be pleased.
> 
> “Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.” - a quote from the Aeneid, its literal translation is "If I cannot deflect the superior powers, then I shall move the River Acheron." More colloquially, its meaning is usually something like "If I cannot bend the heavens, then I shall move the powers of hell." This phrase is a good summation of Loki's overall philosophy from _Thor_ through _The Dark World._ It also heavily foreshadows how I plan to overcome the minor inconvenience of his death in _Infinity War._ That's all I will say about that at present.
> 
> "Ich Liebe Dich Fast So Sehr Wie Bücher" - German for "I love you almost as much as books." She is deflecting his earlier line from chapter one back at him in yet another language. Of course, we all know that the both of them are just being silly. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I came up with the idea for this fic while riding a bus in Chicago just minutes after attending the "Trickster and the Witch" panel at Ace Comic Con Midwest. I knew I wanted Loki to show Sigyn his library during their honeymoon, but when Tom shared how Craig Kyle, the producer of the first two Thor movies described Loki's childhood, I decided to add the flashbacks. The idea of Loki stealing books from the library both amused and irritated me. (Hey, I am a librarian after all.) I was originally going to have him nick them just for kicks and to practise magic, but certain events in my real life inspired me to make it a power struggle between Loki and Odin.


End file.
